As Is Life
by Nightlast
Summary: A sequence of events in the life of one Ryou Bakura. Simple, lonely Ryou and pawn of a master puppeteer. However, how things seem on the outside is not always the be all and end all... Different Genres
1. Crawling In The Dark

_AN- Its been a long while since I've been able to write a fanfiction, and this is the finished chapter of a blurb that I began last march. Hopefully it will continue into small series of events that lead to a conclusion, but exactly where it will go I haven't quite decided yet. ENJOY!_

Disclaimer: The world of Yuugiou belongs to Takahashi-sama and not myself. I do not own Yuugiou. Yuugiou is not my property-

Chapter one: Crawling In The Dark.

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_Ow..._

Where was he? The last thing he remembered was collapsing on the platform on the blimp that was location of the Battle City semi-finals. He had lost, hadn't he? He had lost to Yugi's other side, the Pharaoh that his own Spirit seemed to hate so much. Actually... That wasn't quite true. He remembered outstretched arms and a blinding ray of light, so intense that he could tell just by looking at it that it was dangerous. Blinding and consuming, a punishing blow that would have crushed any soul who got in the way. The words of his thoughts twisted around in his mind, captivating him. Punishment for what? Punishment for a crime? Or for something else, maybe something more intricate and deeply woven. He couldn't get his head around it no matter how hard he tried. Besides, that wasn't the point at the moment, all things considered.

_That still didn't answer his original question..._

Raising his head slightly from his place on the ground, Ryou slowly pulled himself upright, his legs shaking from the weakness that preyed upon anyone who entered the dreaded realm of darkness. He knew that that was where he was- nowhere else had ever filled him with such a sense of dead and foreboding before, and it was unlikely that there was any other place even remotely like it. Of course, it was rather recognizable from the decoration. There weren't exactly many places resonated darkness, sucked it in, billowed it out. The thick smog was heavy in the air, but at the same time it felt clear and crisp, almost empty in consistency. It didn't make any sense, denying all the laws of reality that he knew.

_Why was he here?_

He could hardly remember anything from the past few days, even weeks. Bits and pieces here and there, a blurred memory of a blond Egyptian boy and an almost mirror of himself. Joey, Yugi, the others. It hurt, to say the least. His entire body ached and twinged, and that wasn't when he included the mysterious and deep stab wound that decorated his right arm. It wasn't just physical, anyway... His soul hurt, too. He was growing sick of the life he lead, sick of the way he was played around with as though he was a mere pawn. At the same time... At the same time, though, it was now that he felt more alive than he ever had before. He felt -wanted-, as though he had a purpose in life, at least... in a way. The spirit needed him as a means to an end, a vessel... landlord. His friends needed him to protect them from that very same spirit. In that case, what could he do? Did he do as the good guys wished and helped them rid him of the evil that possessed and used him, or did he not? He wasn't **alone** anymore. Yugi and his friends, as good as they were to Ryou when they needed him, were too tight knit to allow a stranger to join them completely. Castaway as he was, a deep loneliness had grown within him, expanding since the day his family fell to pieces. The spirit, even though it used him, took advantage of him and hurt his friends, was still the only person whohad stayed with him. What could he do when the only moral way was to cast himself back into the depths of being no-one to everyone? But still... Yugi and the others were his friends! They needed him, and he wouldn't let them down. He had a duty to them that he would never forgo. If he could do something to help them, by God he would give up everything he had to do so.

_Why was this happening?_

As he thought, he had slowly begun to stumble forwards into the dark, evil fog, determination building up deep within his soul. Weakly at first, but gaining in strength as he went, he began to sprint, his feet making no sound on the 'ground'. Desperation was lending him the ability to try and run, but he knew it wouldn't hold out for long. Getting trapped there wasn't an option, not when his friends could need his help! He couldn't allow his own contradictions and plaguing thoughts to get in his way now!

Starting to pant, he sped up, crying out as the darkness swirled around him and snapped at his ankles, almost tripping him over. Shaking his head quickly, he pushed himself onwards diligently. The shadows fluttered and shimmered with malevolent, blood-like sparkles, almost seeming to represent eyes. Mocking and taunting him as he threw himself to the brinks of his physical abilities.

_What about the spirit? The evil one who taunted him in his dreams and in reality, hurt his friends and his family alike?_

He needed to know! Why was he trapped here? Unless... the spirit could possibly have lost another duel and been banished to the Shadow Realm as punishment, dragging him, Ryou, along for the ride. Such a thing would hardly matter to the puppet master, unless of course his little puppet was damaged. Another question swirled in the recess of Ryou's mind at the thought, one that boggled him enough to make him stumble yet again. Why, if his spirit was such a commander of the darkness and the shadows, was being sent here much of a punishment? His subconscious provided him with a stray notion, a selfish one, but a notion nonetheless. It was more of a punishment for the spirit's counterpart, to be left alone without the malicious presence that lurked silently in some far-off corner of his soul.

_But… What if the spirit isn't even here? What if he was alone?_

That wasn't a nice thought, and already he could feel his legs start to cave in and his chattering mind numb, dragging him further down into the darkness' abyss.


	2. Soul Into Hades

"Are you happy now?"

Ryou had asked him that hours ago, a mere, shy enquirment inpassing that had seemingly been dismissed as nothing.

The thought swirled idly across the back of his mind as he crept stealthily through dark, cavernous corridors, his soft footsteps echoing faintly off of the cracked stone walls. Damned boots... It was so much easier to get where one wanted to go without drawing un-due attention without having to worry about the amount of noise you were making while -walking-. The urge to go without was intensifying, but what logic insisted that the concequences of such an action would outway any possible gain, even if the footwear did lead him to possibly being apprehended by patrolling guards.

Was he happy? Was he hell. Eyes the colour of molten crimson narrowed in tightly restrained fury, glaring hard as he paused in front of the polished and white-washed door that stood in his way. Perhaps he would find some semblance of happyness if his goals were finally achieved? Perhaps he would find this semblance if he had been lain to rest instead of being sealed for century after century, forced to endure and to learn as time passed by, even as his rationality slowly ebbed in the wake of twisted insanity, which in itself was brought on by an ever growing passion and yearning for the vengance and justice his nightmares called for.

A key twisted in the narrow hole, a soft metalic clink signalling he had gained entry to the next room in the labyrinth that he would have lost himself in, had he not trod this very same path so many times before in the past. The route and all its bearings was indefinitely familiar to him, burned into his memory with ut-most accuracy. Slowly he walked foreward, cool self-assurance in every step he took towards his goal. Fate had never been kind to him, slamming every door he found in his face after dangling treats of hope before his eyes. Everytime he had almost suceeded, it had been snatched away from him... Another door swinging open for the other player in turn while he was left to fan the flames of his ever-growing desire for revenge. A twisted game it may be, a twisted game he could have loathed... And he would have, if he had not been the one in control of it.

Every action has a reaction, and in turn, every reaction triggered another action that opened new paths for him. He was patient- he had to be- He had had time to plot and plan, to maneuver all the pieces til' it was time for the final game. It had almost worked. Almost.

A case of smooth, solid glass stood before him, his hand sliding across it slowly.

Vengence, revenge... Justice. That was all he had wanted in the beginning. In a way, it was no more than that now. He couldn't allow himself to be happy until he was safe and secure in the knowledge that he had not failed. The items were in the hands of those 'chosen' for them, the ones who were destined to keep them and to use them to complete the intricate web of events that had unfolded all those years ago. What right did they have! Those items...

Slaves, bound to the will of those they were created for. Slaves to the throne of Egypt, created to force back the darkness and save the people from suffering. Thats all they were. How could that work? Created by darkness, causing darkness... made to protect and fight back against darkness? The Millennium Items were slaves to the destiny of the Nameless Pharaoh, bound to protect and to serve him until his journey was over.

Goddamn bastards.

He would never rest until he had fulfilled his goals to gather them all, to take back what was his by right. Yes, he would plunge the world into darkness if thats what it took to do it. Those people were nothing to him, paling in significance to to what he would achieve. Pawns and nothing more; a means to an end. This end in particular would be the one thing that could bring him happyness, this end would be the greatest end of all. He would not allow himself to sit idle and fail at his self-appointed mission, for all that fate and other such nuisances got in his way.

For what son would purposefully fail his family? ... Or his people.


End file.
